The Perfect Plan
by Cal reflector
Summary: What happens when the Colonel's plan to steal the hearts of all women in Amestris succeeds too well. For het and slash fans alike.


**Author's Notes:** A humorous little piece about how the Colonel's plan to steal the hearts and minds of the ladies succeeds too well. Dedicated to all FMA fans, no matter your preferences.

Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist.

**The Perfect Plan**

"Second Lieutenant Farman, here to report on the fact finding mission to the Eastern island nation of Nippon."

Placing aside the budget reports that he'd been playing solo tic-tact-toe on, Colonel Roy Mustang swung his boots off the table and turned to face his subordinate. "At ease, Farman. So, how did things go? I hope the other members on the mission didn't bore you too much with their lack of knowledge."

"Thanks to that I had lots of time to read on the ship, sir." Farman grinned as he flipped open the briefing he had prepared. "Nippon was a fascinating nation, to say the least, very healthy and environmentally conscious people; diet of rice, tea, fish and vegetables primarily. Ethnically homogenous and courtesy ingrained as part of their culture…"

Mustang yawned and Farman continued after clearing his throat. "… the women of Nippon are on average shorter than in Amestris, fair skinned, black hair, and are brought up to be submissive and abide by their husband's every wish…"

When he saw that he had regained Mustang's undivided attention, he moved onto the heart of the report. "The literacy of the nation was remarkable, and the most popular form of literature is one I've never encountered before… a sort of complex picture book that they call manga. The popularity of the characters in these graphic novels are so great they often eclipse the politicians and celebrities of the country and inspire cult-like followings from their fans."

By now, Mustang was sitting forward in his seat. "Have you brought back samples of this so called manga?"

"Yes sir, right here." Reaching for a briefcase, Farman placed three thin books on the desk before his superior. "The larger one is the original publication. The two smaller ones are fan-created mangas called doujins, which are equally popular as they appeal to fans with all sorts of tendencies."

Turning the pages deliberately, Mustang's eyebrows remained arched as he perused the contents of the both types. "Tell me… what sort of people read these things?"

"Why all sorts, sir. At least half the readership is teenage girls and young women, on whom many of these publications have something akin to a narcotic effect. They end up spending incalculable amounts of money, time, and energy fantasizing about male characters they favor, often in erotic scenarios as illustrated in this doujin."

"I've heard enough." Mustang stood up and set his hand firmly upon the desk over the books. "Lieutenant Farman, immediately commission the best artists in Amestris to start producing graphic novels of this sort starring myself. Get people from the propaganda department to help you with marketing and sales."

"Umm… why, sir?"

There was a gleam in the colonel's eye as he replied. "Why, to further my… I mean, our enterprise of course! By this one stroke we will garner both popularity and support from the masses and earn additional funds for moving to the top. It is the perfect plan!"

"I mean, why you sir?"

Mustang scoffed as if the answer was obvious. "Farman, Farman, if we published a manga starring someone with less charisma like say… Fullmetal as the main character, who would buy it? It certainly wouldn't attract any female audiences, and the best we could do is display in the children's section!"

Somewhere in the back of his brilliant, scarily overstocked mind Farman doubted the truth of those words, but he was not inclined to differ when his colonel's ego was involved. "…. Right, I'll get right on it, sir."

"You do that." When Farman had left, Roy Mustang sank back into his swivel chair and brought his hands together beneath his chin, an unrepressed grin spreading across his face. "Soon… soon I shall be the object of fantasy for all women in Amestris, hehehe…" Wiping away the trace of saliva sliding down his chin, he began to chuckle, and the chuckle soon grew into the sinister laugh of a villain pleased with his newly hatched plot.

_Two months later._

Roy Mustang was on top of the world. Every where he went things were the same; on the streets, in the restaurants, at the farmer's market, young women kept stopping in their tracks when he passed by to sneak glances or outright stare at him with unmistakable looks of longing, their faces reddening as he turned to flash them his trademark smile. He could feel the heat of their vision on his back as he made his rounds through Central, a sensation nearly as electrifying as a rare promotion… that is, once every six months. When he approached the flower girl's booth at the bend to buy some roses (for himself, for he was in a mood for pretty things), the poor girl covered her face and turned away abashedly, obviously too overwhelmed to be confronted by the object of her desire. Mustang clenched his fist tightly in a gesture of triumph as he walked away with his purchase, "I've done it… they're crazy about me, all of them, my life's goal is complete."

High up in the clouds, a winged Hughes in a toga called down with a bullhorn. "But what about becoming the Fuehrer? What about rising to the top and avenging my death?"

"Maes, that was always your problem." Mustang said to himself, not bothered at all by the strange voices in his head or the fact that he was talking to them. "You never got your priorities straight."

Roy Mustang was feeling so fine, he didn't event mind the unusual coldness which his male colleagues and subordinates greeted him with at Central head quarters. There were even some barely concealed looks of disgust from Bretta and Armstrong, and when he patted Fury on the shoulder from behind the bespectacled man nearly leapt away. None of this bothered the Colonel too much though. "They're just jealous."

Mustang found Farman waiting inside his office. Plopping down and stretching back in his chair, he turned to the second lieutenant to hear his report. "Well Farman, what've you got for me?"

"Sales have gone through the roof; we can't get 'Flame Alchemist' off the press fast enough and polls show that your popularity with the female readership has soared to unprecedented heights. They can't get enough of you sir."

"Excellent, excellent."

"Surveys also show a rising number of fan works created for Flame Alchemist with increasing circulation. I had the secretary procure samples of the most popular titles."

"Sigh, the burdens of being idolized. Let's see now, "Flaming Steel," "Mustang on the Attack," "Forged in the Furnace," I must say, these are some rather creative titles my fans are coming up with, though what I don't understand is… what's Fullmetal doing on these covers?"

Farman loosened his collar. "Um, I don't know, sir."

The colonel began to flip through the pages of the fan publications, and with every page he turned the color on his face became darker and his expression became more twisted in agony until the desk began to rattle and the windows vibrate from his tumultuous emotions. Backing away slowly, Farman excused himself and decided to take an early lunch break, somewhere a bit further away, like Rizenbul. He was just out of the front door of Central head quarters when a blood-curdling cry that could only come from the depths of a man's despair at becoming a victim of fan girl imagination rang to the Heavens, which Brigadier General Hughes turned a deaf ear to, too busy looking at his daughter through the giant silver spyglass and making happy noises.

A few blocks away, under the comfortable shade of a parasol at an outdoor café, Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, dressed in a lovely one-piece sundress and a silk scarf around her neck, looked up from her coffee. "That's odd; I thought I just heard the Colonel scream."

Sitting across from her in casual attire, Lieutenant Jean Havoc spooned more sugar into his espresso. "I heard it too, but it sounded more like Edward Elric to me."

"Must have been our imagination then."

"Must be."


End file.
